Independence Day AKA The OZ's Independence Day
by Glitchie
Summary: Ambrose and Wyatt attend the Queen's Independence Day ball. - reposted.


Independence Day

_You are cordially invited to the first annual Independence Day ball celebrating one year of her Majesty, Queen Lavender's return to the throne. The ball will be held in the grand ballroom at 7 P.M. with music, dancing and refreshments with fireworks to follow_

The invitation sat on the dresser below the mirror. It wasn't dated, but everyone knew when it was to be held, and it was being held tonight. The invitation had confused Wyatt since he didn't understand why they needed to be 'invited' to a party that was basically in their honor, but Ambrose had just smiled and told him it was simply to remind them so that they'd not forget.

Wyatt really hated dancing; the ballroom kind, the 'for fun' kind. It reminded him too much of how Adora had liked to dance. How he would come home from work to the sound of music or her humming happily as she spun about the room preparing dinner or putting Jeb down for a nap, and it hurt too much to remember those times.

Last year, six months after Glitch had regained his brain and his memories and become Ambrose along with the ability to walk once again after endless weeks of physical therapy, the first thing he had wanted to do once he could move about freely without the aid of a cane or someone to help support him was dance. And much to Wyatt's dismay, he didn't want to dance with just anyone; he wanted to dance with him.

Wyatt had grudgingly agreed at the insistence from the doctors that it would further help him in his mobility, balance and free movement. He was tight lipped about it and when the ex-head case had asked what was wrong, he had told him it was nothing. Months went by and Wyatt continued to dance with him reluctantly whenever he'd ask. It wasn't until the day the man had had enough, knowing that something was bothering him and sounded like Adora that Wyatt finally broke down and told him. He still remembered that conversation like it had happened yesterday.

"Wyatt Cain!" Ambrose said haughtily, dropping his hands and brushing Wyatt's away from his slight frame in the process as he glared at him. "If you don't tell me what's bothering you right this minute, I _swear_ I will walk out that door and never speak to you again! I _know_ it's not 'nothing' like you always say. Every time I ask you to dance, you close yourself off and it's like you _are_ made of tin!"

Wyatt sighed heavily, looking hurt and Ambrose's attitude softened marginally. "I hate this," he answered. "I hate doing this!"

Ambrose blinked, looking shocked and hurt. "Y-you don't want to dance with me?" he asked in surprise and it was like he was holding back tears.

Wyatt exhaled heavily once more. "No, it's not that…" he said quietly. "It's not you."

Ambrose swallowed, looking at him uncertainly. "Then what is it?" he asked softly, his expression changing to one of concern when he saw how tired Wyatt looked. Despite the reluctance and even iciness when it came to dancing, their friendship had grown since his surgery, but he'd never seen the man looking so tired, so run down.

Wyatt sighed and moved away, slumping down in an over stuffed, high backed chair. "Adora," he answered quietly, looking up to meet his friend's concerned brown eyes. "She always loved to dance… it… it reminds me so much of her… it hurts."

"Oh," Ambrose breathed softly and closed his eyes, his hands going to his lips a moment as he took in this new information. Opening his eyes, they shone with sadness and understanding and he moved to kneel at Wyatt's feet. "I'm sorry… it never even occurred to me that… that was what was wrong."

"It's all right," Wyatt answered. "It's not your fault, you didn't know."

"No," Ambrose said shaking his head. "I – I should have realized… but…"

"But what?" Wyatt asked looking down at his friend with mild curiosity.

"But then, why did you do it?" Ambrose asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "Why did you dance with me for so long?"

"Because you asked me to," Wyatt replied quietly. "And the doctors said it would help. That you'd get more mobility back, and I wanted you to get better."

Ambrose breath hitched and crystalline tears slowly began trickling down his cheeks. "Oh," he breathed out softly and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his surprised friend, resting his head against his chest. "No one has _ever_ shown me such kindness… to do something like that… something you hate because it causes you pain… just to help me… thank you…"

Wyatt swallowed thickly, uncertain how exactly to respond to such a show of emotion from his friend and slowly began to rub his back.

Ambrose was quiet for a while as he tried to gather himself once more. When Wyatt shifted once more, he lifted his head slowly and his heart stopped seeing how close the blond was. Watching him a moment, he licked his suddenly dry lips and shifted down to his knees as he exhaled a soft, warm breath. Wyatt's eyes remained locked with his as he moved forward slowly and caught the man's lips in a gentle kiss.

Wyatt's eyes drifted closed at the touch of soft lips against his own and he couldn't prevent the soft moan that escaped his throat as he inhaled sharply through his nose. Feeling Ambrose begin to withdraw at the sound, Wyatt's hand stilled on his back, clutching at him tightly through his shirt as his other hand moved up to cradle his face as he parted his lips.

Ambrose hummed softly and accepted the invitation but kept his movements slow and controlled in case things became too much for his friend. After a few moments of tangled lips and soft caresses of the tongue, Ambrose pulled away again and this time, Wyatt let him go as they smiled at each other, trying to catch their breath.

Their relationship changed soon afterward from mere friends to more than friends to sharing a suite. Wyatt sighed, coming back to himself as he watched Ambrose finish dressing for the ball. They had made a promise to each other that night, and he had to admit, Ambrose was right; there were times when dancing was required. One dance; that was their agreement, Wyatt only had to get through one dance.

Once he was ready, invitation in hand, Ambrose turned and Wyatt accompanied him down to the ballroom, his black tuxedo with pale blue bow tie and cummerbund matching his eyes, off setting Ambrose's white tuxedo with tail coat with vest of white satin and gold filigree design and gold bow tie.

Ambrose smiled at the doorman as he handed him their invitation and led Wyatt into the ballroom and over to their table, his eyes alight with excitement and his fingers twitching with the music.

Wyatt accepted two flutes of sparkling champagne from the waiter when he came by their table and handed one to Ambrose, giving him something to do.

Ambrose smiled and accepted the glass, taking it in one hand as his other continued to fidget, tapping out the rhythm of the music.

Wyatt took his hand gently in his own; curling his fingers around Ambrose's, stilling them and drew his hand up to his lips, kissing the back lightly.

Ambrose smiled, a slight blush staining his cheeks. They remained quiet, watching the couples enter the ballroom and mingle, finishing off their champagne.

"Come on," Wyatt said standing to his feet.

"Now?" Ambrose asked, his face falling. "But it's so early."

Wyatt nodded in understanding. "Come on," he said again, tugging gently on Ambrose's hand.

Ambrose exhaled heavily and reluctantly got to his feet. He had hoped that their night wouldn't be over so soon.

Wyatt led Ambrose out onto the dance floor and moved him into position as the orchestra began a slow song, drawing him close and resting his cheek against his friend and lover's as they moved together to the music.

When it was over, Ambrose moved to pull away with a slight nod and soft sniff but looked up when Wyatt didn't move or let go of his hand and blinked. "What?" he asked softly.

"Where are you going?" Wyatt asked, not moving from where he stood, looking at him in concern.

"I'm all right; we had an agreement and you met it," Ambrose said and then smiled though it was a sad one. "There _will_ be other dances, Wyatt." He moved to go once more but Wyatt pulled him back in his arms and he blinked in surprise.

"It's all right," Wyatt murmured softly, holding him close.

Ambrose swallowed thickly and looked up at him uncertainly. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quavering slightly.

Wyatt reached up and caressed his cheek as he looked steadily into Ambrose's chocolate colored eyes. "I'm sure," he answered softly. "It's important to you."

Ambrose smiled at him and leaned into the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears and nodded once more.

That night, they danced for hours, rarely sitting down, finding comfort and peace in each other's arms occasionally sharing gentle kisses. At midnight, Wyatt led him out onto the balcony that over looked the gardens and the grand lawn that had recently been revived by the combined magic of the two princesses to watch the fireworks.

Ambrose blinked, slightly distracted as the fireworks started and turned to look at Wyatt questioningly when he drew his hand to his thigh, their fingers intertwined and Wyatt met his gaze steadily.

"I love you, Ambrose," Wyatt said, just loud enough for his friend and lover to hear him over the fireworks exploding and showering the sky with various colored lights.

Ambrose blinked, his breath hitching at Wyatt's proclamation. "Wyatt?" he asked, uncertainly when he found his voice. He knew Wyatt still loved Adora, knew he always would, but it was something he'd never expected to hear although he'd wanted it more than anything.

"I mean it, Ambrose," Wyatt said, reaching up to caress his cheek. "I love you," he murmured again and leaned in to kiss him.

Ambrose hummed softly into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Wyatt's neck, twisting and turning his body to get as close to him as possible where they sat on one of the marble benches on the balcony, tears of joy slowly trickling down his cheeks as the grand finale exploded around them. Yes, there would be other dances, but none would be as memorable as that first Independence Day ball.


End file.
